


Bittersweet Creature

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, F/F, Hand Feeding, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Power Imbalance, Sexual Tension, Violence, goddess!villanelle, mortal!eve, villanelle is a cat person and this is a hill i am willing to die on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.Every five years, a girl is chosen to sacrifice to the goddess of night and darkness. That year, the goddess chooses for them.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 36
Kudos: 229





	1. THE HUNT

**Author's Note:**

> almost everyone in this fic: tiddies out

The day the air filled with smoke was gray and promised rain. Eve stood at the window, ears seeking out the music. It was supposed to be a solemn day but there was always music, laughter. The younger children played in the streets, not yet knowing what fear was. 

Her mother went to her and placed gentle hands between her shoulder blades. “Be glad it isn’t you this time,” she said. It was like clockwork, those words, she said it every time but Eve could never be grateful for such a thing. That year it was a girl she knew, who she had walked to her classes with, shared meals with. She had two younger siblings who she would never see again. 

The bell tolled, and as the village walked quietly down the single cobbled road, Eve clutched a black rose in her hand. She had found it earlier that morning, resting at the foot of her bed, and she no longer questioned why it was there, simply that it was. She told no one about it, lest they thought she was consorting with spirits.

Cobblestone eventually became dirt, became trampled grass. No one ever came out this far, where the forest and its darkness began to creep, except on Deliverance Days. Eve did not know why they called it that, or who started it. It made her sick to her stomach. The torches held high did not penetrate that terrible darkness, which seemed to be reaching out for them, hungry and wanting.

The girl, Frida, was brought forth by the elders. Despite the dark, her skin shone, well oiled, and with vibrant flowers in her hair. That was what the Goddess liked, they said. Something alive, something fresh, so she could sink her teeth into it and ruin it. If Frida was scared, Eve could not tell, for she stood tall, and she did not shake, or fidget, or turn to look at any of them. The priest blessed her, the elders each kissed her hand, and then, as was customary, they all bowed their heads, and quietly acknowledged that grand sacrifice. 

They watched her go. She was barefoot, wearing nothing but a white slip, the fabric trailing behind her. She looked like a bride, until the darkness consumed her and then she looked like nothing at all. They were to make sacrifices like this every five years, to satiate the darkness and the goddess which commanded it. Eve had seen it before, each time less pleasant than the last. She wondered where they went, if there really was a goddess in that forest that ate every girl they sent to her. 

After this, they would choose another young girl, and for five years they could keep her at the temple, kept away from the rest of the world, the priests and priestesses the only ones permitted to gaze upon her. No one knew what happened there. Some sort of training on servitude, maybe. Eve was too old now for it to be her but fear still struck her heart when it was time to announce the name.

A great unease overtook the crowd, who all began to murmur amongst themselves. Eve looked and there was Frida, reappeared. There was mud at the hem of her dress, her skin paler than before. The people began to murmur among themselves;  _ how can this be? Probably too scared, poor thing. Send her back.  _ Everyone feared the wrath of the goddess. 

“Why have you returned, child?” One of the elders asked. 

Her face was unchanging, unblinking. Like she had no soul. It scared Eve, who found herself taking a step back, her blood thrumming through her veins. Frida had become something she did not want to gaze upon.

“The goddess does not want me,” announced Frida, her voice as clear as glass. She raised her arm, a blade that cut through the air. “She wants her.”

She was pointing at Eve, her last decree before collapsing. The elders rushed for her because nobody else seemed to want to. They all stood, staring at Eve. She was petrified, she had never seen or heard of such a thing. It was her who the goddess wanted,  _ her _ , who was not rubbed to shine, who did not have flowers in her wild hair, who had not prepared for such a thing. So that is what it felt like, then, to be chosen.

Her mother turned to her, gripped her shoulders hard enough that her nails dug into her skin. “Eve.” she said her name and it sounded so far away. Eve, without realizing, was being led through the crowd, to the elders, to her future or lack thereof. 

“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered quietly, though she did not attempt to dig her heels into the dirt, to run or scream. She was frustratingly pliant, unwillingly willing. There was nothing she could do, anyway. The goddess, who in Eve’s lifetime had never made her presence known, who had taken a girl every five years without a single word, wanted Eve, and Eve would go whether she wanted to or not, so there was no use in trying to stop it. 

“You must do this.” Her mother shook her and looked at her fiercely. “You must go and do as the goddess bids you. If she asks to eat your heart, you present it to her on a platter. Do you understand me?” 

The elders were whispering amongst themselves, all of them unsure of how to proceed. 

_ It could be a test, _ one said, looking at Eve like this had all been her doing.

_ The goddess has made her demands. We must honor them or face the darkness.  _

_ She is not ready. She is not trained.  _

Eve looked at her mother, who had so much pride in her eyes it sickened her. It did not matter that they would never see each other again; it did not matter that Eve could die. She did not cry and following her example Eve did the same, stifling those emotions that surged inside of her. 

“You must go now,” one of the Elders said, taking her arm. “Before it is too late.” 

They led her themselves to the treeline, tendrils of darkness beginning to creep out over her shoes, grasping at her legs. Eve went to step away but couldn’t. They gave her a little push forward and she stumbled. Everyone was looking at her and she felt terribly unprepared. The silence was solemn and heavy. 

Eve swallowed and stepped into the darkness. 

  
  
  


She hadn’t realized that she clutched the black rose tightly in a fist she refused to unclench. It was impossibly dark, darker than a moonless night, and her eyes refused to adjust. She stumbled through it, feeling for the trees, tripping over roots. She feared something might touch her; an animal, or something worse than that, for that was no longer the human world that she inhabited, but that of the goddess. Who knew what sorts of pets she kept there. 

Eve walked until she stumbled across a puddle of moonlight, a carriage pulled by two black horses and no driver waiting for her. She clumsily climbed inside the red velvet interior, her heart lurching along with the carriage. She did not know where she was, or where she was going, that rose still in her hand, her last keepsake from home.

She wasn’t entirely sure how long they travelled, or how quickly. There was a little window beside her covered by a curtain, but drawing it aside meant accepting the fact that she might not like what she saw, if there was anything to be seen at all. 

Eventually the carriage slowed and came to a stop. Eve held her breath for a minute, waiting to see if anyone would come for her, and when no one did she opened the carriage door herself and stepped out. 

The palace loomed tall above the land, an ancient stone structure with ivy crawling up its walls, surrounded by pines and oaks and willows. She stood now in its courtyard, by a crumbling fountain of a woman spilling water at her feet, her saccharine face lit by nothing but moonlight. 

The doors were slightly ajar, a gaping mouth waiting for her. Eve was reluctant; looking behind her she saw that the carriage had disappeared without making a single sound, and she was truly alone. 

She pushed forward. What else was there to do? Her footsteps and the creak of the door echoed, fading out into the empty halls. It was an immense palace cloaked almost in complete darkness, save for the trail of lit candles leading up the curving steps. Eve followed the candles, each step like climbing a mountain, her legs shaking, and they led her to a darkened hall of closed doors in which only one stood unlocked and ajar. 

It was a room, just for her; a four poster bed; a tub with steaming water; new clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser; flowers everywhere, the scent of them hitting her square in the face.

Eve went to the large windows and pressed her face against the cold glass, hoping to see her village from there but finding nothing but the moonlit tips of the pines that surrounded them. She took a deep shaking breath, unsure of where to proceed from there. She went to the wardrobe and found such beautiful dresses there. Her fingers skimmed over the delicate fabric, wondering if they belonged to all the girls before her. 

So that was her life and her room now. She looked around, wondering how long it would last, how long she would be there. It was so big and deceptively beautiful, like there was a monster hidden in the flowers, waiting. 

She left the black rose on the dresser, next to the clothes, its petals a bit rumpled from the trip but otherwise still as beautiful as when she’d found it that morning. It astounded her to think that had been less than a day ago.

Eve went and made sure the door was locked before she began to undress. It was ritualistic, that undressing, like killing something old to usher in the new. Whatever that might be. She covered her breasts when her clothes were puddled at her feet, though there was no one to see her save for the moon. 

There was something about the warmth of the water that made it feel like a small comfort when she slipped inside the tub and yet her vulnerability did not escape her. A lock would not stop a goddess and it was foolish to think herself safe.

Eve bathed with bated breath, the water never running cold, her skin smelling of roses. She was looking over her shoulder, waiting, though for what she did not know. Something was going to happen, she was sure of it, and when nothing did she still waited. 

There were some things that died within her that night, in bed, a failed attempt at sleep. She felt it all withering away; her freedoms; her home; her love for her mother. If she had a daughter, Eve thought, she would have never let her go, she would have fought tooth and nail to keep her. They said it was not their decision, who went, but Eve would make it hers, if she could. 

The bed was the biggest she’d ever slept in, the pillows the softest she’d ever had; she felt like an animal being prepared for slaughter. 

  
  
  


The sunlight streaming in from the window in the early morning blinded her. She did not think that such a thing existed in that place but there it was, bright and golden against her skin. On the dresser that morning was a platter of bread and cheese and fresh fruits. She could count on one hand the amount of times they’d had such delicacies in her village. She devoured it in an instant, not caring that it might be fairy food. She was trapped already, wasn’t she?

There were new clothes on the dresser, neatly folded like last time with a fresh black rose next to them, and it unsettled Eve, thinking of who might have come in her rooms while she slept the sleep of the dead. There were no servants that she had seen, just her alone, guided by candles and magic. 

The dress that had been chosen for her that day was nothing less than elegant, the fabric a sort of shimmering dark red that caught the sunlight and made her look like she was covered in precious jewels. She had never seen anything like it, and was fairly certain that nothing like it existed outside of that place. 

There was a sound that startled her, not within the walls of her room but outside, in the hall. Eve went to the door, pressed her ear against it, listening for those distinctively human sounds; soft laughter; the pad of bare feet against stone. She took a deep breath. It could be a trick, an illusion. Goddesses were capable of such things. Despite knowing this, she pushed the door open, and in the hall she saw what she had not seen the night before. 

Sunlight spilled from the glass ceiling in shades of every color. Above her were scenes of raging battles; girls danced in heavenly gardens; one world formed and another destroyed. Further along was the Goddess, her face angry, almost vengeful, as darkness spilled from her hands to envelope the land her forebears fought so hard to protect. Eve wondered if she really looked like that, with hair all around her like snakes, an unforgiving, cold face. 

She caught movement from the corner of her eyes, a flash of white followed by a joyful giggle. When she turned, there was nothing there but endless hall. She followed where it came from, further into unfamiliarity, uncaring if she got lost. She could just find another trail of candles to lead her back.

There was a certain kind of refinement to that place. Eve wandered if kings and queens had walked those very halls, if battles had raged right outside its walls while courtesans danced within them. But there was also coldness. An absence. Places like those were meant to be filled with people; people to keep them, people to live in them, people to write about the people who lived in them. She had seen a palace like that, once. Perhaps not as magnificently grand but a palace nonetheless. She could not remember the name of the queen who lived in it, for when she was old enough to care about such things the age of kings and kingdoms had long since passed. But she remembered that day clearly, remembered seeing the turrets and flags beginning to rise from the hills. She sat atop a cart, an old mule pulling her along a dusty road. Where was she going? Probably to the market with her mother to trade linen for food and essentials. 

That was what they did, in her old life. They had to work and make things to trade with others for such necessities as food and clothes. No one had a phantom to procure such things out of thin air.

These was someone behind her. She could have sworn she felt warm breath against the back of her neck but when she turned there was just another hall, another blank wall, more closed doors. She tried one and found it was locked; all of them were locked. 

When she turned the corner, though, she found a woman lounging on a bench with elegantly carved armrests. She was quite beautiful, her skin practically glowing, her limbs arranged in a manner that made her look both delicate and care free, her breasts half exposed. 

“You’ve found me,” she said, smiling as she bounced to her feet. She grabbed Eve’s hand and began to tug her along. She was barefoot, and up close Eve could see the gold and pearls that had been woven into her curls. “It took you quite a bit.” 

“Who are you?” Asked Eve, but received no answer other than a mischievous look and a giggle. The woman led Eve down more steps, around a series of corners Eve became convinced were meant to confuse her. They went through a tunnel, which eventually opened up into a lush garden at the heart of the palace. 

Surreal was the word Eve would use to describe it. There were trees bearing fruits of every type, even ones she had never heard of or seen before, their limbs heavy with them. There were women dressed in sheer, shimmering fabric eating fruit, juice dribbling down their chins; women smelling the flowers and delicately picking the ones they liked best; women bathing in the shallow pool at the center of the garden, splashing water at each other.

At her entrance they all stopped to stare at her, and Eve averted her gaze, cheeks burning red. She tried to sneak little glances of their faces, but those were not the girls from her village. They were far too ethereal to be human at all. 

They gathered around her, touched her hair, her shoulders, the shimmering fabric of her dress. Someone placed a yellow flower behind her ear. Another kissed her cheek and welcomed her. Their nudity did not seem to bother them and so Eve tried not to let it bother her but she found her eyes firmly latched to their faces, unable to look anywhere else. 

“You’re overwhelming her, girls,” said the woman who had led her there, urging the others to move back and give her space. She told Eve her name was Nysa and that they had all been looking forward to meeting her.

“You… knew about me?” Eve asked tentatively, unsure of where she stood. The women looked amongst themselves and hid their soft laughter behind their hands. 

“Of course,” said Nysa, and took Eve’s hand in hers. “Come. May I comb your hair?” 

They sat under the shade of a cherry tree, picking sweet fruit from the branches. Nysa ran an ivory comb through Eve’s hair and wove flowers into her curls. They did not ask her questions about her life before that moment, about where she came from, where her home was, who she was. Being with them made it easy, made her situation not so bad. She wasn’t entirely okay with it, if there ever came a moment that she  _ could _ be okay with it but it was bearable.

“How has your stay been?” One of them asked. She had introduced herself earlier and Eve thought her name was Mystis.

“It’s been strange,” Eve said, honest but careful of the words she used. There was still some remnants of resentment bubbling inside of her.  _ Be glad it isn’t you, _ her mother had said. She could have laughed. “Different.”

“I can imagine. So far from home.” They shared a sympathetic laugh that tapered out to an uncomfortable silence when they saw that Eve had not joined them. She was staring at her hands, at her shimmering dress under them, anywhere that would distract her from the tears that threatened her eyes. 

“May I ask something?” 

“Go ahead,” said Nysa. “What is it?”

“The other girls before me. Do any of you know what happened to them?” 

They grew quiet and Nysa’s hands withdrew from her hair. Eve looked from each of the faces and followed their gaze across the garden. There, in all her glory, was their goddess. 

She was not the stone-faced monster that Eve had expected her to be. Her hair was honey dripping down her back and Eve would go as far as to say that her features were quite delicate. Soft might have been a word she would have used to describe her, if she were a poet. Eve stood as the other women scurried away from her. Once again she was left alone to face the darkness. 

The goddess stepped closer to her and Eve did not know what to expect. Fear shot through her spine when the goddess raised her hand, thinking that now, surely, she will me smited, but the goddess simply plucked a flower from Eve’s hair and inspected it for a moment before letting it fall. Her fingers were adorned with rings, a thin golden chain around her neck. She had the eyes of a fox, cunning and bright.

“Join me for lunch,” she said, a demand rather than a request, and she walked away with the full expectation that Eve would follow after her. 

Eve walked behind the goddess with her heart in her throat. She studied her back, the lithe muscle that moved under the smooth skin she could see so clearly where her dress dipped dangerously low. She moved like a predator, deliberate and slow so as to conserve energy. So she could pounce full force, tear her throat out, if she wanted. 

She was led to a dining hall, now occupied with servants carrying platters of food and a rather long table with a single chair at either end. Eve stood motionless and watched the goddess go to the farthest end of the table. All was silent except for the scraping of the chair against the floor, as the goddess dragged it around the table so that they might sit closely together.

“Please,” she said, motioning to the chair. “Take a seat.”

They sat close enough that their knees just barely touched, Eve’s eyes on her hands resting on her lap. The ease she had felt with the women in the garden had gone in the blink of an eye and she felt like a defenseless child. 

Servants served piles of food before her, the smells hitting her in the face and making her mouth water. It was far too much food for two people; roasted meats; vegetables; roses fashioned from strawberries. Despite this, the single thing that drew her attention was a small bowl left to the side as an afterthought. Without thinking Eve took it and dipped her finger in it. An explosion of sweetness in her mouth. Just as she’d thought; sugar. 

The goddess had been staring at her. When Eve noticed she felt ashamed and quickly put the bowl back where she’d found it. “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered, averting her eyes again. She did not know the protocol, she had not been trained, but figured that not looking at her was a safe enough bet. Powerful people did not like it when you met their gaze; they saw it as a challenge.

Gentle fingers under her chin coaxed her head up. “Look at me,” said the goddess, her voice soft but commanding. Eve did, and found an unreadable face. “Did you like it? Have more. Have it all, if you like.” She placed the bowl back before Eve. 

Someone left a glass of what Eve assumed to be wine. “Thank you,” she told the servant, but the woman’s face was emotionless, and she did not react. She looked around her, at the servants, and realized that they all wore the same expressionless face. They looked human enough but something seemed strange to her.

“Shadows,” said the goddess, drawing Eve’s attention back to her. “Look.” She pointed to a patch of sunlight on the floor, and as Eve watched with silent astonishment the servants that passed over it disappeared, so that whatever they were holding looked like it was floating on thin air in the moment before they reappeared. Eve gasped and found amusement in the goddesses face. “Strange, I know. You will get used to it.”

Somehow, those words made Eve feel at ease. It implied time, longevity. It implied that she would not be eaten just yet.

“I trust my nymphets treated you well?” 

Eve nodded. “Very well, thank you.” And then, without thinking, said, “you have quite the harem.”

The goddess studied her and Eve worried she might have crossed a line but if she did the goddess did not show it, and there was no lightning to smite her for her insolence. “They are what I need them to be.”

“Goddess, I-”

“You may call me Villanelle,” she interrupted, before Eve could make a bigger fool of herself. “Please. Eat.” 

It sat strangely in her mouth, that word.  _ Please _ . Like she was not used to it. Eve imagined it was not often that she said it, if at all. So Eve ate until she was full, barely having made a dent but it was the most satisfying meal she’d ever had. 

“Will you not eat go- Villanelle.” Eve quickly corrected herself. 

“No. Was it to your taste?” 

Eve wanted to shrug but thought it might be impolite and instead settled on, “Yes. It was delicious. Thank you.” She did not tell Villanelle that she did not have what she called  _ taste _ ; that what she often ate was soup, or scavenged roots, with meat saved for the rarest of occasions because it was so hard to come by. She had never felt so full in her life nor had she ever eaten such a meal. 

Villanelle waited for the dishes to be cleared before saying, “I imagine you have many questions for me.”

Eve had hundreds, thousands. They all swirled in her head, a jumbled mess until one came forward, perhaps not the most important one but she needed to know nonetheless.

“Was that you leaving those roses for me all this time?” 

“Did you like them?”

Eve bit her lip. “I- why?” 

“Because I wanted to. I thought you would understand my message.”

“What message?”

“That I had my eye on you. That I wanted you.” 

A servant placed a bowl of something colorful in front of Villanelle. She took a piece, studied it and then brought it to Eve’s lips. “Try this.” Eve opened her mouth obediently, her cheeks burning when Villanelle placed it right on her tongue. It was sweet and buttery and melted in her mouth. “Good?” Eve nodded and was rewarded with a few more, each one fed to her from Villanelle’s own hand. 

“Why am I here?” Eve asked, before Villanelle could give her more. The sweets were good, really good, but she needed to ask her questions lest she be distracted into complacency. “Why me?”

Villanelle tapped her red nails on the table.  _ Taptaptap. Taptaptap.  _ Eve shifted in her seat, the sound like a drill in her head. “Are you scared of me, Eve?” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes unavoidable and dark.

“May I speak freely?” Eve had a healthy fear of a great many things as one should. Heights, anything with sharp teeth and claws, the black berries that grew by her old house that could have a woman convulsing and foaming at the mouth until she died. She waited for Villanelle to nod and said, “I am terrified.” 

Villanelle grinned, licking the tip of a canine. “That’s fair. We will have to work on that, won’t we?” She took Eve’s hand, studied her fingers. Her skin was oddly warm. “I want to prove to you that I mean you no harm. I am no one to be feared.”

“Do you plan on making me one of your-” What was that word she’d used? “One of your  _ nymphets. _ ” The word itself was alluring, coquettish. It implied sex, sweat, love. Visions of the garden danced behind Eve’s eyelids and heat burned through her. 

Villanelle laughed. “You are mortal. You cannot  _ become _ a nymphet. They are my companions, made of moonlight and stardust.”

Eve tried to hide the strange disappointment that overtook her face. Villanelle was watching her and she wished that she had a face that gave nothing away. 

“I don’t want you to think you are a prisoner here. Whatever you need, it is yours, all you have to do is ask for it.”

She spoke with a tone of finality. There were to be no more questions that day.

  
  
  
  


Nysa entered her room at dawn, when Eve was still fighting off those last few tendrils of sleep. She sat at the foot of the bed, her curls tumbling down her back, her skin of moonlight and stardust perfect and glowing. It did not escape Eve how she must look, or the mess that sat atop her head. 

“Our mistress has asked that I get you ready for today,” she said. “We are going hunting.”

Eve sat up slowly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Hunting?” She wanted, instead, to stay in bed, under her covers where it was soothingly warm, like a balm on sore skin. She hadn’t been woken so early since her arrival; there was no need for it. She did not have chores or errands or anyone who depended on her for anything. The only expectation imposed upon her was that she join Villanelle for all meals, or an occasional stroll in the gardens, but even that did not feel like a chore. 

“In the West Wood. Come on, up you go.” Nysa grabbed Eve’s hand and eased her to her feet, the cold stone making her shiver. There was no gown that day, but trousers and a tight linen blouse, laced at the front. Eve slipped on the kneehigh leather boots herself and then turned to face that mirror so she could watch Nysa braid her hair.

“I did not know goddesses hunted.” 

“There is no need for it, really, but it is fun. The West Wood is a magical place. You will see.” 

Nysa led her down the stairs. In the entryway there was a great commotion; servants spilled out of the doors; the nymphets talked eagerly amongst themselves, dressed similarly to Eve with quivers full of arrows strapped to their backs. Only Villanelle saw Eve arrive, and she offered her hand for those last few steps. 

“Do you know how to shoot?” Asked Villanelle.

“Shoot?”

Eve was handed her own bow and a quiver. The bow was light and carved from ash, nothing like the one she’d had at home, old and worn and passed down from her grandmother, to her mother, to her. She was the first one to use that bow. The arrows were tipped with silver. 

“I know how to shoot,” Eve confirmed and felt something strange witnessing a small smile appear on Villanelle’s face. 

“All right, then we are ready. Eve, stick close.” 

_ I am not a child _ , thought Eve, but thought it best kept unsaid. “Do you not have hunting dogs?” Some nearby nymphets heard her and laughed. 

“No,” said Villanelle and that was the only answer Eve received until she stepped outside and in the bright sun saw a servant leading five giant cats on a leash. They were probably more fur than anything else, but their paws were about the size of Eve’s hand, and standing they might have been as tall as her. They had the fiercest look in their eyes, something predatory that reminded Eve of Villanelle when she’d seen her in the garden for the first time. They dragged the servant along until they reached the treeline, and when they were freed from their leashes they dashed off into the woods, lost to the shadows.

“I will teach you their names,” Villanelle said to her quietly. “They are quite friendly, when they want to be.” 

Eve tried not to trip over roots as they went along, ashamed that she was the clumsiest out of all of them. The ground was still soft and wet. Eve passed her fingers over a dew covered leaf and watched as it curled up into itself, afraid of her touch. 

Neju was the first of the cats to return to the hunting party, two birds in his mouth. Villanelle took them from him and scratched his chin. “Neju is the kindest of my cats,” said Villanelle. “He can find anything that is lost.” His fur was the color of gold and sunlight. 

They broke up into smaller groups a bit further along the trail. Some swore that they heard a wild boar in the bushes, others that they’d seen a bird whose feathers they wanted for a dress, and in a blink of an eye Villanelle and Eve were alone, trudging through the West Wood with a parade of servants behind them carrying everything they would need for the day. They were quiet but Villanelle’s presence put Eve on edge. 

“Is it safe to assume that you have been hunting before?” asked Villanelle.

“Yes. Often. I come from a line of markswomen. My mother taught me, and her mother taught her.” Hunting meant living. Hunting meant food to eat.

Villanelle slowed and fell into step beside her. Her interest was plain on her face. She put a hand on Eve’s shoulder and stopped her mid step after a moment. “Ready your bow. Look.” she pointed into the trees and Eve managed to catch a glimpse of a dark shape. It squawked, rustled the branches. “Show me.” She could feel Villanelle’s breath against the shell of her ear and tried to suppress a shiver.

Eve took aim. It would be a tricky shot but she had experience with those. The bird was still enough for a second, just long enough for her to pull the bowstring tight and let it go. There is always that long drawn out silence after she let go of the arrow and before it landed its mark, breaking through flesh and bone. 

It was a small bird and a clean shot; it barely made any noise as it fell. A moment later a cat burst through the foliage, the arrow in its mouth and the bird dangling at the end like a pendant. “Odi,” said Villanelle. She was mostly white with patches of honey brown around her face and body. “She’s a sweet girl but good for retrieving and nothing else.”

Eve took the arrow from Odi’s mouth and the cat chirped happily. Tentatively, Eve scratched behind her ears.

“You’re a good shot,” said Villanelle when they were again walking side by side. The bird had been too small and pitiful to be of any use to them, so they had given it to Odi as a treat.

“I’m the best shot in my village.”  _ Was. _ Her throat closed and she looked away. The birds in the trees flapped their wings, grateful it hadn’t been them with an arrow to the heart. 

“Do you like it here, Eve?”

“I think it is beautiful here and you have been a very gracious host.”

“But do you like it?” 

“I like it.”

“I think that is bullshit.” Eve stumbled and would have fallen on her face had Villanelle not caught her arm. “I don’t want you to take me for a fool, Eve. I know what the circumstances of your presence here are.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Villanelle’s tongue poked at the tip of her canine. “There is no offense but I seek honesty.” Her voice lowered, “I would like to please you but I cannot do that if you cannot be honest.”

There was more sunlight than Eve had expected in the kingdom of the goddess of night and darkness. It seemed like golden water that spilled everywhere, dripping and puddling. Eve wanted to put her mouth to it, drink from it, feel its warmth in her throat. 

In a particular patch of sunlight was a cat, Detka. He was on his back, paws in the air and blood on his face. When he saw them his tail twitched from side to side but he did not otherwise move and Villanelle bent to scratch his belly. “He is the laziest of my cats,” she said. “Eats his fill of a kill and then takes a nap until it is time to go home.” 

“He does not seem like a very effective hunting cat.”

Villanelle shook her head. “He isn’t but sometimes we get attached to things and it is hard to let them go.”

They came upon a stream, with its waters that spoke their own language. Eve listened, and she watched carefully as Villanelle bent to drink from it. There was where life met at a single point, from the tiniest mouse to the largest beast, separated by hierarchy but brought together by a single need. 

Everything was so green, so  _ alive _ . Hunting in the West Wood was nothing like going hunting in the human realm, where bugs attacked your face and fought for the right to your blood; where plants found whatever exposed skin there was and left an unbearable rash for days as a reminder of who was king there. 

A sound drew Eve further down the stream. She felt safe, unthreatened, and so she followed it without a second thought, to some ancient ruins overtaken by the overgrowth and half submerged in the clear, blue water. Eve held her breath, hoping the giant buck feasting on water lilies had not noticed her.

It was, perhaps, three times the size of her, its antlers covered in moss and vines, little yellow flowers growing here and there. It raised its head, stared right at her, through her. Its muscles rippled under its skin and Eve held her breath as it took a single step towards her; the ground seemed to shake and she saw that where it stepped, flowers grew. 

The arrow whistled past her ear and embedded itself in the beasts eye. Eve looked away before she could see the blood and clamped her hand over her mouth when she felt it collapse. 

“Little shit,” spat Villanelle behind her. “That will teach you not to eat my fucking apples.” She whistled and two black cats appeared, sunk their teeth into the beast, and dragged it out of the water. “Malchik and Devushka,” Villanelle said, when she stood next to Eve. “They are siblings, my strongest and wildest cats. I would not recommend petting them if you value your hand.”

“Why would you shoot it?” Asked Eve, overcome with anger. She probably should not raise her voice; she probably should not do a lot of things. 

“Who? Duke?” Villanelle looked at her with amusement in her face. “Because he is an asshole. Come here.” 

Eve went reluctantly. When she was close enough Villanelle took her hand and pressed it to Duke’s burning skin; his eyes had already gone glassy. “Do you feel that?” Eve felt nothing. “He is dead. He is the spirit that guards this forest and I killed him because he ate my apples. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t get angry. Things don’t really die here.”

“What do you mean?” 

“That which you are touching, it is only physical. Duke is a spirit, and spirits do not die. He will return to eat my apples again because he is an asshole, and I will shoot him again as payback. It is the way these things go.” 

  
  
  


As the sun disappeared into the horizon, Eve observed the little mushrooms which glowed in the dark, the flowers that bloomed only when the suns rays did not hit them and emitted light wholly their own.

“Do you like it here?” Villanelle asked, looking over the glade. Eve could see all the lights reflected in her eyes. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Alright. We will stop here, then.”

Eve had not realized how hungry and tired she was until she heard those words. The servants laid out blankets and cushions and platters of food. They lit torches as the nymphets slowly trickled from the trees to join them. Eve held her breath, for in the night they looked like little moons. 

“Did you get those feathers?” Eve asked Nysa when she saw her again. Nysa took a pouch that hung from her hip and showed Eve its contents. Inside were what looked like little jewels, blues and greens reflecting the light of the torches. 

“I’ll make you something too,” she said. 

“Nysa,” said Villanelle, lounging back against the cushions. “I think Malia was looking for you.” When they were alone, Villanelle motioned for Eve to join her. It did not escape Eve that Villanelle’s shirt had come partly unlaced and she could see the smooth skin of her chest, the beginning curve of her breast. Villanelle held out a piece of cheese and Eve obediently bent forward to let Villanelle feed it to her. 

“Yes?” 

“You asked me why I had chosen you,” said Villanelle and Eve’s heart leapt in her chest at her words. She moved closer to the goddess without her realizing. Somewhere, someone started a slow beat on a drum; the torches flared. “You see, I am looking for a bride and I would like that to be you.” 

Eve stared at her. Dumbfounded. “Me?” She pressed her hand to her chest, where the wild beat of her heart choked her.

Villanelle held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear your arguments just yet. I am well aware that you are mortal but it does not bother me. There are many remedies for that.” 

“Remedies.” 

“Yes. I will not force you into anything. I would much rather have no bride than an unwilling one, but the proposition is on the table. It is you or no one.” 

“And if I say no?”

Villanelle shrugged but Eve could see the slight downward curl of her mouth. “Like I said I will not force you. I have made my choice, now it is up to you.” 

Eve looked away from her and at the full moon, which never seemed to wax or wane.  _ Marriage _ . A different sort of sacrifice, then.


	2. THE TEMPTATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall can have horny eve. as a treat.

Eve was laying in bed watching the moon through her window when the door to her room creaked open. She did not need to look to know who it was for Villanelle’s scent had soon become a familiar one. Besides, she was not unexpected. 

“Are you awake?”

Eve turned over, watching the silver light reflect off the sharp planes of Villanelle’s face. Her eyes were wide, white circles in the darkness filled with mischief and excitement. A shiver raced down Eve’s spine when Villanelle reached for her and helped her up to her feet.

“Thank you for doing this.” Villanelle’s hands lingered on Eve’s bare arms, circling around her wrists like she couldn’t get enough of those little touches. Villanelle’s hunger had become familiar to Eve, too.

“Can you tell me where we’re going?” Eve asked her, allowing a heavy wooden cloak to be placed around her shoulders and tied under her chin. “It’s so late.” But Eve was not tired and she had no desire to stay in bed. She was terribly excited to see the creature Villanelle became at night and to see the places that existed in her realm. 

“You will see,” said Villanelle, sliding the hood over Eve’s head. 

Eve felt like a fugitive as she made her way through the palace hand in hand with Villanelle, her heart beating so loudly she was sure Villanelle could hear it. 

Eve was not as scared as she was curious. They made their way to that place in the forest where glowing prints were left where they stepped and little blue mushrooms lit their way. There was not much to be seen outside of their glowing sphere of light but nothing out there could be as dangerous as the woman who led her by the hand, who could be tender when she wanted to be and rarely showed her teeth.

They slowed their pace when they were well within the forest, Villanelle never letting go of Eve’s hand. Eve expelled a lungful of air, looking at the stars that shone through the tree cover. There were things to be said, questions to be asked. 

“I have been thinking of your proposition,” she began to say but was stopped when a finger pressed against her lips. 

“You don’t have to say anything about it now,” said Villanelle. “I would actually prefer it if you didn’t. Now is not the time for serious things.” 

So Eve swallowed her words and locked them in her chest lest they should make their escape without her knowing. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked instead, hoping for a laugh but finding that her joke had fallen flat and was not well received.

Villanelle’s face grew serious. “I am not going to kill you, Eve. Is that what you think of me?” 

“I do not know what to think of you,” Eve said. She withdrew her hand from Villanelle’s grip and held it, as if burned, against her heart. “I am not entirely sure what you are.”

“What do your people think of me?” 

“What does it matter what my people think of you?” 

“It matters a great deal. They are my people too.” Villanelle’s face was severe in the moonlight. Darkness gathered around her, a perpetual aura of obscurity. She reached out but Eve moved away before she could touch her. “Do they think me a devourer of women?”

“I would think you the same if you took my daughters from me.” 

“Yet you do not fear me anymore.” 

Eve turned away to avoid that sharp glint of teeth in the darkness. “No. And I am not entirely sure if that is a good thing.” 

The tree cover was beginning to break when Eve heard the roar of water. They walked until the land dropped suddenly, where far below them the sea raged and waves crashed against rocks. And above them- Eve held her breath when she looked at the congregation of stars which swirled and danced above their heads, guided by the bright moon which seemed larger than life there. 

Staring at the vast expanse of ocean stretching before them it was easy to imagine that they might be the only two souls alive in the world. 

“Sanctuary,” Villanelle sighed behind her. 

Eve closed her eyes and let the wind whip at her hair, sharp and clean and smelling of ocean brine. She could feel Villanelle behind her, infinitesimally closer than she’d been a second before and closer still a second after. 

It did not escape Eve how close she was to the cliff’s edge, trapped between Villanelle and a sheer drop. 

“I did not kill those girls,” Villanelle said next to Eve’s ear so that her words would not be carried away. “ I am not entirely the monster that you think I am.” 

Eve turned to face her; they were but a breath away, so close that Eve could see a million pinpoints of light reflected in Villanelle’s eyes. “There must still be some monstrosity in you, then, if you ask for them.”

“It is about loyalty, Eve. Compromise. Surely that is something you must understand.” 

Eve swallowed. “Why have you brought me here, Villanelle? Certainly it is not to throw me off this cliff.” 

“No,” said Villanelle. “I want to show you something.” She reached for Eve and held her hands between their bodies. “A gift. For you.”

Villanelle turned her face to the moon and closed her eyes. Eve’s gaze fixed on the arch of her throat, the way it bobbed up and down when she swallowed. “The moon sees everything,” she said. “It sees secrets and hidden things. And what she sees I see as well.” 

Eve eyes widened as the moonlight grew brighter around them, becoming an almost tangible thing. It flowed over them, cool against Eve’s burning skin. Villanelle swiped her hand through the air, as if grabbing at the moonlight itself, and when she opened her hand Eve saw a small oval glass flat on her palm. 

“Take it,” Villanelle urged her. 

It surprised Eve how solid it was, that little looking glass made of moonlight. It was no taller than a finger and half the size of her wrist. There was nothing to be seen save for a single flickering flame and Eve’s eyebrows knitted with confusion until the image panned out.

The woman on the glass took shape slowly, transforming from a blur to something recognizable. When Eve could finally make out the shape of her mother, bent over their table, it was like Villanelle herself had taken a blade and stabbed it deep into Eve’s gut. 

Eve let the glass fall and it shattered into a million pieces at her feet. Villanelle was reaching for her, her lips moving but all Eve could hear was the roar of blood in her ears. She had Villanelle against a tree, forearm against her throat, before she could draw another breath. 

“I could kill you!” Eve shouted, her fist raised and ready to strike. “I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands.” She pressed her forearm harder against Villanelle’s throat just to feel the wild beat of her heart, the struggle for breath that never came. 

“Do it,” whispered Villanelle, a single tear escaping from the corner of her eye. It was not fear that made Eve drop her fist, though there was a dawning sense of realization that followed the act.

There was a challenge in Villanelle’s eyes, daring Eve to hit her, to take her anger out on her, and once she had that opportunity Eve found that she could not go through with it. She slumped against Villanelle, all the fight drained out of her, feeling like an opportunity missed. 

“I thought you might like to see her,” Villanelle said against the crown of Eve’s head. 

“I can accept my fate,” said Eve, pushing away from Villanelle once she had regained her strength, “but please do not taunt me with all that you have taken from me.” 

Villanelle said, “I do not taunt you. I care about you, Eve.”

There were those treacherous tears, threatening Eve’s eyes. “Have you ever thought that you are selfish?” She did not want to look at Villanelle, or witness how those words might affect her. “Please. Take me home.” 

Eve was not entirely sure which home she meant. Her mind filled with images of something small, something magnificent, something dangerous…

Eve did not care to speak to Villanelle after that. She felt deeply wounded, overcome by an aching that would not be smothered. There was a sour taste in her mouth when she thought about her mother and the empty house in which she lived. 

In her rooms Eve was at last alone, but the silence did not satisfy nor soothe her. She hoped Villanelle would not follow after her and yet felt a flood of relief when she heard the creaking of floorboards outside of her rooms and the squeal of rusted hinges as the door slowly opened. Villanelle did not knock, for there was not a door that was locked to her. 

“Eve?” 

Eve could hear the soft padding of her bare feet against stone as she made her way to the bed. Eve’s back was turned to her and in the absence of sight could hear the whisper of Villanelle’s hair against her shoulders, the murmur of her cotton shift. When she touched Eve’s arm her hand was as cold as ice. 

There was no use pretending to be asleep. Eve opened her arms and Villanelle crawled under the covers with her, wrapped around her tightly. She could be so small and delicate. Eve, with her hands flat on Villanelle’s back, felt like she could snap her in two and squeezed her briefly just to see if she really could. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Eve could feel Villanelle’s lips moving against the hollow of her throat and every exhalation sent a little shiver down her spine. She was exhausted and keeping her eyes open was an impossibility so she did not try to fight it. 

“I’ll never forgive you so long as I live,” Eve mumbled against Villanelle’s forehead and gasped at the feel of teeth against her throat. 

“You should not be talking to me like that.” 

“And yet you can do nothing to stop me.” She grabbed Villanelle’s wrist when she began to rise and commanded her to stay. Her voice was like that which she had never heard before. 

“You’re a rotten girl,” said Villanelle, wrapping herself around Eve like a snake seeking warmth. 

  
  
  


Eve began to notice her viciousness like a blade in her side. The edge was new, the sharpness alarming. She studied her teeth in the mornings, running the tip of her tongue over her canines until she tasted blood. 

The Nymphets, at least, liked her. They combed her hair and praised the jewels Villanelle gifted her, and the fine clothes that adorned her body. They taught her how to use a knife in a dusty arena, where Eve sometimes pretended the wooden dummy was Villanelle. It was a relief to sink a knife into something, she just wished she could do the same with her teeth and for a brief moment wondered if Villanelle’s blood was as cold as the rest of her.

On her twelfth day in the palace Villanelle gave her a sword that was lightweight and would always land true, a stunning sapphire in its pommel. When Eve took it in her hand, the blade glinting in the early morning sun, she found that she liked the way it felt and the sound it made when it cut through the air. 

“Its name is Kingslayer,” said Villanelle. “How do you like it?”

Eve swung it a few times so that her body could become accustomed to the motions. It had been quite a few years since she had last picked up a sword- not since she was a girl, if her memory did not fail her, and certainly not one like Kingslayer.

Villanelle unsheathed the sword at her side, which was smaller but no less exceptional than Kingslayer. 

“What? Shall we fight?” 

Villanelle grinned. “If you think you can handle it.” 

Eve had become quite good with a knife; it was easy when it was small and all it took was a quick flick of the wrist but with a sword she found herself awkward, fumbling over her steps and her movements. 

“Think of it as an extension of your own limbs,” said Villanelle, circling around her. She swung and metal met metal in a loud screech between them. Eve stumbled, nearly tripping over her feet but managing to keep her balance. 

Villanelle kicked up a cloud of dust that stung Eve’s eyes and swung again, a blow so hard that Eve felt her teeth rattle. Her head would no longer be on her shoulders had she not stopped it in time. 

“You have much learning to do, Eve.”

Eve grit her teeth, doing her best to weather blow after blow but ending up on her ass every time. Her entire body ached and she burned with embarrassment, glad that there was no one else in the arena to see her fumble. 

“Fuck you,” she spat, swinging at Villanelle’s legs but finding nothing but air. She was light and so fast, her limbs nearly a blur when she moved. 

They circled each other around the arena, Eve panting hard and Villanelle perfectly calm and collected. She had not even broken out into a sweat and that infuriated Eve. She gripped her sword tighter as her muscles tensed.

“Do not let your anger guide you. That is how you die.” Villanelle pushed up the sleeves of her shirt and Eve’s eyes latched onto that smooth skin and lithe, deadly muscle. When she looked at Villanelle’s slender fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword she felt hunger, an exquisite need that was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Distractions were deadly in the arena; Eve knew it as well as anyone. Distractions were what got you thrown on the ground, your blade out of reach and a boot on your chest, panting hard and unable to get back up. 

“Focus.”

Eve gasped, her hand around Villanelle’s ankle. She pulled  _ hard _ and sent the goddess crashing to the ground where both of them struggled for dominance until Eve finally had Villanelle straddled, her sword arm pinned to the ground. 

“I’m starting to think you have a thing for pinning me down, Eve.” 

“Shut up,” said Eve, staring down at Villanelle and unsure of how to proceed from there. The moment felt like a small victory. She could feel Villanelle’s heat through her trousers, between her thighs and soon her confidence drained and she could feel her heart pounding in her head.. 

Villanelle let go of her sword so she could put her hands on Eve’s thighs, the curve of her waist and slender arms. “I want you,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly dark and wide. She was looking at Eve like she wanted to eat her, like she was under a spell and not totally in control of herself. “Eve. Beautiful Eve.” She pressed the pad of her thumb against Eve’s bottom lip. 

“Why?” asked Eve, trying to keep her voice steady as villanelle wrapped her arms around her and pressed her down hard, seeking. Her desire was palpable. Eve put her hands on Villanelle’s shoulders, overcome by all the sensations that were assaulting her at once. “Why me?” 

“Why not you? Look at that hair, and those eyes.” Her breathing had gotten faster and Eve smoothed Villanelle’s hair back when she saw the desperation rising in her. “Kiss me. Please.”

Eve cupped Villanelle’s cheeks and tilted her head up. It occurred to her that she really could kiss her, if she wanted. She was but an inch away. 

“No,” she said. She rolled off Villanelle and laid on her back in the dust beside her, breathing hard. She was flushed from head to toe, thinking about Villanelle pressed against her. She was pathetic when she whined, so powerful yet reduced to a needy mess.

“What else?”

Villanelle looked at her, confused. 

“What else? One does not usually wish to marry another because of her hair, or her eyes. When was the first time you saw me?” 

Villanelle sighed and clapped twice, shadow servants appearing with food and towels for them. Eve was still amazed at how easy it was to attain things there; one had to simply lift a finger and before them would appear whatever they desired. 

“Haslem,” said Villanelle, wiping sweat from her forehead. “The day you got lost looking for mushrooms. Remember?”

Eve propped herself up on her elbow. “That was you?”

_ Haslem _ . The only forest in the region not drowned in darkness, where a special mushroom grew coveted by artists and poets. It could still be a treacherous place, where paths changed in the blink of an eye. The trail that took you in would not necessarily take you back out.

Villanelle nodded. “I quite like hunting there. What were the mushrooms for?” 

“I was going to commission a portrait for my mother.”

Villanelle arched a brow and fed Eve a grape. “You pay your artists in mushrooms?” 

“Well they wouldn’t take just any mushrooms,” said Eve, thinking of the white and blue caps. They said if you ate one you could speak to the gods but Eve had never been particularly keen on trying them. Those days anyway she did not need the help of mushrooms to do that. “There’s a special kind that grows only in Haslem.”

Eve often wondered about who might have gotten her out of the forest that day. She did not remember anything other than the fast beat of her heart and the fear in her veins. How terrifying it was to get lost in the forest, every tree the same as the one before it, every path leading to nowhere.

“Is that it?” 

Villanelle shrugged, averting her gaze. “What can I say? I am a weak woman. I would see you after that in the markets but that would only strengthen my desire for you.”

Eve nudged her with her foot. “You cannot be serious.”

Villanelle looked curiously perplexed. “I am serious, though. What do you want me to say?”

“That’s all it took? I go traipsing in the forest and you find me lost and disoriented and want to marry me?” ” 

“That’s all it took,” Villanelle confirmed.. “I saw you and I knew I must have you.” 

“See,” said Eve, “selfish.” 

“So be it. I will not deny who I am and neither should you pretend I am something else. I wanted you. The circumstances change nothing. I would have wanted you had I seen you by the river, or beggin in the streets.”

“And now you have me, right?” 

Her face grew cloudy. Lately it seemed like all Eve could do was displease her, which was not always a bad thing, if Eve could play her cards right.

Eve grasped the back of Villanelle’s neck, pulling her head close. She could feel the steady beat of Villanelle’s heart under her fingers. 

She said, “and yet you can’t take what you really want, can you? And that is what frustrates you most.” 

Villanelle’s eyes were predatory and she opened her mouth to say something when the doors to the arena burst open.

Eve stood quickly, kicking fruit everywhere in her haste to not be seen. 

“You’re early,” said Villanelle to their intruder, wiping her dirty hands on her trousers. 

“I am sorry mistress!” said Mystis, running in after the man who had so rudely interrupted them. “I told him not to come in here.” 

“It’s fine, Mystis. Leave us.” Villanelle waved her hand and the door slammed shut after the nymphet. 

The man crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed. “Is that any way of treating your guests?” 

The extravagant jewels on his fingers glinted in the light and Eve saw the smooth skin of his chest where his silk shirt fluttered open. “You’re three days early. That makes you an annoyance, not a guest.”

The man gazed at Eve over Villanelle’s shoulder and looked her up and down. A grin appeared on his face, wolfish and not too kind. “Who is this?” 

He raised a hand to touch Eve’s face but she quickly swatted it away and bared her teeth at him. “She’s got a bite, hasn’t she?”

Villanelle tried to hide a smile. “She’s got a worse bite than me.” 

Eve was flushed all over and unsure of what had overcome her in those last few seconds before their interruption. Her hand had been so firm on Villanelle’s neck and she was so sure they would have kissed. She had  _ wanted  _ to kiss her, just like Villanelle had asked her to. Every time they looked at each other Eve was sure that Villanelle knew it and could see it reflected in her eyes.

The man hummed under his breath. “Human. You really know how to pick them, Villanelle.” 

“Can you blame me, though?”

Eve glared at her harshly. “Don’t speak about me like I’m not here. I don’t enjoy the commentary.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Eve.” 

He had excellent hair, she noticed. Smoothed back with a deliberate lock falling over his forehead. His eyes were bright and that was perhaps his best weapon, for when he smiled they came alive and were nearly impossible to look away from. It was obvious that he was a god and perhaps Eve could find it in her heart to be kinder to him if she valued her head.

He bowed mockingly. “Hugo.” Villanelle had been right the first time when she called him an annoyance.

Villanelle looked relatively displeased with him and did not care to hide the fact. “I’m sorry to leave you,” she said, taking Eve’s hand and kissing the back of it, “but there is business to attend to.”

She took Hugos’ arm and dragged him out of the arena, leaving Eve alone. She sighed and picked up her sword, promptly making good work of the wood and straw dummies before her.

  
  
  
  
  


The man who was not really a man had grass growing out of his head. He walked between the rows of apple trees, muttering to himself and kicking at rotting fruit as he went.

“...never had so much sunlight… never ever…”

He wore a vest made of moss and when he opened his mouth Eve saw that his teeth were made of bark. His temper was short and he could often be found yelling at the birds and scaring them from their perches. When he was particularly worked up his voice would turn into the babbling of a brook, or the screech of an owl.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Eve asked him.

“Bad for the apples,” he said and plucked one from a tree and presented it to Eve, perfectly round and black as night. “Look! Dull! Bitter! Bah!” he flung it as if disgusted by its very presence. 

Eve stifled a laugh. “Where I come from sunlight is good for apples.”

“Where you come from?” he spat. “What does it matter where you come from? That is neither here nor there. Apples need darkness to grow. Tell mistress the sun is no good for apples. She must make it dark again.” 

A wind rushed through the orchard, rustling the leaves and urging the birds to take flight in a dark cloud. It smelled of rain though the sky remained clear as glass.

“Don’t listen to the old lechy,” Nysa said behind her. “He needs something to be angry at or else he dies.” The lechy grumbled behind them, his voice the crashing of waves against a rocky shore, the cry of a hunting bird before a fatal strike. It still shocked Eve a bit, when he did that. 

She followed behind the lechy, hearing his voice lower and rise. He could imitate the sound of any bird, or the song of a whale, the squeak of a rodent. He had made Eve jump earlier when the hiss of a snake had left his mouth while she was looking for an earring in the grass.

The nymphets quite enjoyed his tricks; they thought he was fun and silly, and whispered that he could be kind on most days than not. But Eve was startled by that strange little creature, having never seen anything like him. 

He knew about the plants that grew there and had been taking care of the grounds since before her mother was born. He told her of a place where she might find a queen’s skull from the days of the monarchy but his directions were so complicated she did not bother memorizing them. 

She was quite a way from where the nymphets were having their noon meal under the shade of a tree. Their voices were a mumble except when they laughed and all she heard was tinkling glass.

Eve stood close to the shrubbery and roots that fought for space near the orchard. Villanelle had goats stop by twice a week to trim the lawn, and it was quite the efficient method. 

The lechy continued on but Eve stood there, staring at the dark spaces between the trees, which only grew deeper and darker. There came that wind again, which felt like something pushing her in. The leaves whispered their invitation and she was quite tempted; all it would take was one step after another. 

The lechy had told her once that she could go anywhere in Villanelle’s lands so long as she kept the palace in sight. If she could see it over the trees then she could always find her way back or else the forest would swallow her and never let her leave. 

Eve looked at the gloom of the forest once more, and then back behind her where the nymphets chased each other through the orchard. 

Their days had descended into a lull since guests had begun to arrive and it seemed like Villanelle’s days were consumed by them. Eve saw them when they arrived mostly at night; she could see a small sliver of the courtyard from her window, where a shadowy carriage would come and go.

She did not know what all the secrecy was about. The nymphets had begun to whisper of dances and masquerades.

Eve settled on the blanket that had been carried out by servants for them. With her were Malia and Electra who were admiring some new weapons brought by their latest guest. 

“Do you know where Villanelle is?” Eve asked, trying to sound as casual as possible but the girls were too busy with their trinkets to notice anything odd about her. 

“Busy,” answered Malia, distracted by a gauntlet that had fierce claws and could be filled with venom. “Carolyn and Hugo are talking her ear off, I bet.” They laughed but Eve felt excluded from the joke. 

“Carolyn?” 

The palace had grown busier, the halls no longer the empty, quiet ones she had known and grown used to. There were people there who she had never met and Villanelle had made her grand escape in the midst of it all. 

Eve would not say that she missed Villanelle but there was something about her absence that disturbed her. Her meals were boring without Villanelle there to feed her bits and pieces of foods she’d never eaten before; the training arena was no longer a sanctuary but a place to spend her days, waiting for them to end. 

And Eve would not say she missed Villanelle but the feeling was a familiar one. 

“She’s a goddess,” said Electra. She held out a blade for Eve to inspect, sharp and wicked. “For our training?” She was always quick to change the subject; she had much to say and never enough time to say it all. 

“I would like to go for a walk in the woods. Would anyone care to join me?”

They looked a little unnerved by her proposition. Eve could see that they would have rather stayed sitting on their blanket, comfortable and safe in Villanelle’s grounds. They would be taken care of there. 

Eve could not help feeling like a caged animal, pacing from wall to wall. 

“We are not allowed in the woods without our mistress,” said Malia. 

There would be no convincing them, then. They were bound to Villanelle’s whims and seemed perfectly content with it; it had been their life and all they’d known since the day of their creation. 

“Where are you going?” Electra asked her retreating back. 

“I left something in my rooms,” called Eve behind her. “I’ll be back.” 

  
  
  
  


In the palace, which was just as busy- if not busier- than it had been that morning, Eve took a serving platter from the hands of a servant. It stood there dumbfounded and unsure of how to proceed once its one task was taken from it. 

Villanelle had been cooped up in her rooms with guests for the majority of the week. Eve had never been there before but she knew the way in theory. It was in the quieter part of the palace, stifling in its boredom and so quiet she could hear her own breathing.

She gripped the tray harder as she neared the large double doors. That had never been forbidden territory to her, not explicitly, but in that moment she felt as if she should not be there.

Eve raised her hand to knock but thought better of it. Servants did not need to knock for there were shadows; they could not see or hear or speak and so there was nothing to hide from them. 

When she pushed her way inside her eyes met Hugo’s over Villanelle’s shoulder immediately. The room was large and spacious and they sat by the large open windows that overlooked the pines, taking in the breeze. In the distance, if she strained her eyes, she could see the ocean.

Villanelle stopped mid sentence when she saw her. She seemed surprised but not angry, which was great for what remained of Eve’s confidence at that moment.

Huga tutted under his breath. “You’ve got her working the kitchens, Villanelle?” 

Villanelle ignored him, turning her full attention to Eve. “What are you doing here?”

Eve took a deep breath. There was the last of her courage withering away. “Can I speak with you?” 

Villanelle cupped Eve’s elbow as they stepped out into the hall. Her eyes were bright and again Eve’s heart started that strange beat when she gazed at the goddess and felt her touch. 

“I’ve never seen this part of the palace,” she began, smiling nervously. The stained glass continued there with its histories. Immortalised in glass above their heads was the moment of Villanelle’s birth, a story that Eve knew well and which was taught to all the children in the region. 

“Born of the affair between a mortal woman and ungodly beast,” said Villanelle, following Eve’s gaze. She wrinkled her nose. “They say I was an ugly baby.” 

Eve had first heard the story when she was a young girl and she remembered feeling quite sorry for the goddess who had been given her position purely out of pity. It was true that she’d been quite the ugly baby; it was the reason she had been given the gift of darkness.

“What are you thinking?”

Only when Villanelle spoke did Eve notice she had gotten closer, a new feature of their meetings together. 

Eve thought again about kissing her, about how easy it would be to lean forward and close the small distance between them. Villanelle might taste sour, or bitter as blood. Eve would swallow her whole and desire settled over her like a heavy woolen blanket. 

Villanelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pressing her forehead to Eve’s. The tension shattered between them.

Eve felt Villanelle’s hair, the dampness at the back of her neck. “What the hell was that?” 

“I’m sorry. It’s Hugo. He can be such an asshole about these things.”

“What does Hugo have to do with any of this?” Eve laughed; she felt dizzy. 

“He is the god of love,” she said, her voice so soft next to Eve’s ear. “Of desire and pleasure.”

“So he’s  _ making  _ us act like this?”

Villanelle grinned, shook her head. “He’s not making us do anything.” She pressed her palm flat against Eve’s chest. “It’s all already there, he just amplifies it. Is there something you want to tell me?”

She looked so smug and proud of herself. Eve pushed her away, not wanting to give her any satisfaction. 

“I came to ask you if the nymphets and I could take a walk in the woods.”

“The woods? What for? Are you not satisfied with all that you have been offered here?” She was already turning back to the door. “Stay. I would like to know that you are safe.” 

  
  
  
  


“I am sorry I haven’t been able to make time for you,” Villanelle said one morning. They lounged in the garden, on pillows embroidered with beautiful scenes of beautiful women in beautiful gardens. “Let’s go somewhere.” 

“Did you have some place in mind?”

Villanelle bit into a peach, the juice dribbling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her hand and caught Eve’s eyes. “The market in South Bend.” 

Eve’s heart lurched in her chest and she sat up straighter. “Are you serious?” 

Villanelle nodded. “Just you and me. How does that sound?”

  
  
  
  


The nymphets were to stay in the palace, entertaining the guests while Eve and Villanelle took their leave. They packed light, just a bag for the two of them, and set out in a carriage in the middle of the night. 

“Have you been practicing in the arena?” 

“Not with the sword. The nymphets only like to use knives.” 

A flash of guilt in Villanelle’s eyes, caught in the low light of the lantern as she turned away. She lifted the corner of the curtain but all Eve could see was Villanelle’s reflection in the glass. 

Their hands between them, pinkies just barely touching, they travelled for some time to a small house in a village just outside of South Bend. Eve could hear the rush of water when she descended from the carriage though she would not see the river that flowed through the property until the morning. 

“You’ll have your own room here,” said Villanelle, leading Eve up the stairs and through the darkened halls. “I’ll be just two doors down from you.” She pointed in the direction of the room and Eve felt it was too far away but stopped herself from saying so. 

The bed was unfamiliar, the sheets too scratchy. It was obvious that no one had slept there in years and Eve felt restless and unsatisfied, Villanelle’s absence more overwhelming than ever. 

She thought of Villanelle in the other room and a pressure began to build up in her head, behind her eyes. Not a headache but something totally unfamiliar to her. 

The expanse of the bed felt infinite and in frustration she kicked off the heavy blanket. The pressure in her head was slowly building not into pain but into a crescendo, growing and growing until she could no longer stand it.

Eve would not give credit to the force that guided her hand between her thighs. She tried to keep her mind blank as she pushed up the hem of her nightdress, feeling the smooth skin of her thighs but she had no control over her thoughts, images flashing behind her eyelids. 

It made her blush, thinking of strong hands and thighs, a lithe body, honeyed hair. She gasped loudly when she first touched herself and it did not escape her how the sound bounced off the walls. She wondered if Villanelle could hear her and decided she did not care either way. 

Her stomach dipped as she began a slow rhythm. Easy, she could do easy. She could control the roll of her hips and the flick of her wrist. Easy, like sinking a knife into willing flesh. 

Hugo was not there to affect her. Her desire was purely her own, a fire that roared and swelled and did not need more kindling than what was already inside her. It scared her how much she wanted it, needed it. 

Eve gasped loudly, sinking two fingers deep inside herself and marvelling at her wetness. 

_ I want you. Kiss me. _

_ I want you. Kiss me. _

Eve repeated it like a mantra, fucking herself harder and faster, lifting her hips off the bed and feeling the pressure rise inside her, from her head to her chest to each individual finger.

Her toes curled and unable to control the rhythm any longer she came, biting her lip harshly to stop the shout that welled up inside her and lodged in her throat. 

_ Do you know the things you do to me?  _ Villanelle had asked her once because she, unlike Eve, was not afraid to say what she felt. It was in that moment that Eve really understood the power she had over the goddess and she realized that she should not be afraid to use it. 

  
  
  
  


They left early that morning but were unable to beat the crowds. The air filled with dust and the shouting of the merchants could be heard long before they saw the market itself. People pushed past them, shouted over them. In the clamor, Villanelle looked more human than she’d ever had before. 

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Eve asked. 

“Not really. I used to come here a lot. I hoped to catch a glimpse of you. Turns out some of these human trinkets are quite … interesting.”

Eve had missed that place. It was as familiar to her as the path back to her village, a path she was tentatively close to taking. 

Eve stopped at a stall run by an older woman. There was no one around, her little corner of the market empty, and Eve had to wonder why for on display was the most beautiful robe she had ever seen, gorgeous blue silk embroidered with gold thread and mother of pearl. It was intricate and carefully made, the kind of thing that someone would spend months if not years working on.

The market had once been one of Eve’s favorite places growing up. She loved going there with her mother, setting up their tiny stall. Sometimes she was allowed to wander from stall to stall. Vendors would give her little bits and pieces of fruit or desert. She had some of her fondest memories there.

She spotted the woman when they were at a jewelry stand, Eve admiring a bracelet. It was purely by accident. Surely she would not have seen her had she not turned to Villanelle to ask her opinion of the slender gold chain. 

Eve gasped and gripped Villanelle’s arm tightly to keep herself steady. To see her was a shock to Eve’s system, a lightning strike straight to her core. Her face was just the same though more vivid than what Villanelle had showed her in the crystal. 

“Eve?” 

Eve tore her eyes away from her mother, a mere two stalls from them, to look at Villanelle, who was smiling gently. 

“Go to her,” said Villanelle. “There will be a servant waiting for you by the melon stand when you are ready to return.” 

  
  
  
  


The shadows were growing longer when Eve finally made her way back with a servant. She was happier than she’d been in a long time and her mind swirled with thoughts of freedom and trust. 

She could have left. The road back was as familiar and when her mother had asked she had almost said yes without a single thought and yet-

There was no doubt that if she left Villanelle would turn over heaven and earth to find her. Eve was not a prisoner but something much worse; she was loved, she was wanted. She was a source of desire. 

At the cottage the lanterns by the door flared to life when Eve appreached and inside the candles were already lit and waiting for her. She went up the stairs and to the end of the hall.

Villanelle had told Eve once that goddesses did not need to sleep but they could do it, if they wanted to. Sometimes Villanelle fell into the habit of slinking off to bed when the sun set. She liked to dream, colors and impressions flooding her mind. She was always particularly pleasant after a good sleep. 

Eve could not hear anything from Villanelle’s room and pushed the door slowly, taking creeping footsteps through the dark. 

“Eve?” Villanelle’s voice was low, and Eve could see the lump that was her body under the covers once her eyes adjusted. She was warm and strangely vulnerable. 

“Move over,” Eve whispered, crawling under the covers and into Villanelle’s waiting arms. 

“Are you alright-”

“Thank you.” Eve pressed herself closer, her words nearly drowned in the crook of Villanelle’s neck. 

Villanelle’s fingers were tentative in Eve’s hair, on her back and the curve of her spine. “You can see her whenever you want. You are no prisoner of mine.” 

Eve searched for her in the dark, feeling lightheaded, and found Villanelle’s lips with her own. It was a soft, chaste kiss, lasting no more than a second but it was enough for Eve to realize that kissing Villanelle was not like tasting blood, bitter and hot, but rather like honey dribbling down her throat, slow and just as sweet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long my cat kept sitting on my keyboard.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only supposed to have four chapters but knowing me there might be more. Thank you for reading if you got this far!!


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